


Moving On

by hakaseheart



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff Defense Force, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:40:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23191021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hakaseheart/pseuds/hakaseheart
Summary: Rikimaru had always been Hanzo's favorite place for ramen, and despite its proximity to his former home, he couldn’t ignore the desire to grab at least one bowl while he was in the area.
Relationships: Genji Shimada & Hanzo Shimada
Comments: 2
Kudos: 52





	Moving On

**Author's Note:**

> It's not the fluffiest of fluff, but I had to write this before I could get these two to be any fluffier. It also definitely takes place after the events of [Another Hand Like Our Own](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19022836/chapters/45177463), which I promise I totally intend to finish someday. XD

Snow was just beginning to fall as Hanzo turned the familiar corner towards his destination. The sun had long since set, which gave him a certain amount of confidence as he moved. The darker it was, the less likely he was to be recognized by people he had no desire to see.

Still, he moved with deliberate intent, and it wasn’t long before he was gently pushing aside the _noren_ to peer cautiously into the building. He squinted through the bright shop lights until he was content that nothing was amiss before finally stepping inside.

He’d been able to smell it from the street, but the scent of soy sauce and roasted pork was even stronger from inside the shop. Rikimaru had always been his favorite place for ramen, and despite its proximity to his former home, he couldn’t ignore the desire to grab at least one bowl while he was in the area.

Hanzo made his way to the counter and nodded at the teenager behind the counter. He couldn’t have been more than twenty, which was fortunate. Anyone much older would have already recognized him. “One best in the world,” he said as he took a seat. “And take your time.”

The kid nodded back and poured him a glass of water, which Hanzo sipped at as he debated ordering a glass of _sake_. It was best if he didn’t dally too long, considering his visibility. Still, he felt the need to slow down and savor the moment, and he was at the point of adding to his order when a glint of silver pushed through the _noren_ at the entrance.

Hanzo froze. While things were mostly settled between them, he wasn’t sure what that meant for the future. Or, barring that, what it meant for right now. When Genji settled onto the stool beside him, Hanzo took another sip of water to stall for time.

“Greetings, brother.” Genji’s words were cautious and measured, but seemingly without malice. “I see we both had similar plans for dinner this evening.” He glanced briefly at the menu before placing his own order with the restaurant worker. “One best in the world, please.”

Swallowing, Hanzo placed his glass back on the counter. A quick look around the tiny restaurant confirmed that any other patrons were more taken off guard with Genji’s appearance than by their identities. “Shopkeep, make those to go.” He finished by looking at his brother and giving the most nonchalant shrug he could manage. “And make them spicy.”

~

It was simple enough to brush the snow off the roof of a building nearby, giving the brothers a much more private place to sit as they swiftly ate their takeout ramen. While the boy working the counter had almost made a fuss over the changed orders, he’d swiftly reconsidered once he realized the caliber of customer he was dealing with. In the end, it was wiser to suffer the insult than argue with anyone in the Shimada clan.

Genji and Hanzo ate in relative silence, quietly competing against each other as they raced to be the first to consume the spicy broth. Inwardly, Hanzo was impressed at how quick Genji was at removing his mask so that he could eat properly. He also tried, and failed, to keep from staring at the twisted scar tissue that covered his younger brother’s face.

It was Genji that therefore finished first, putting down his bowl as he chuckled at his brother’s attention. “It isn’t the prettiest, is it?” He fitted his mask back into place, hiding the scars from anyone else’s prying eyes. “I’ve learned to live with it.”

Hanzo pulled his eyes away, only just realizing how hard he had been staring. He went back to his soup and search for the correct thing to say. “I can only begin to apologize-”

“Stop.” The word was a firm, yet gentle, command. “You have apologized enough, brother. The time for that has passed.” Genji’s eyes showed no hard emotion, just a tired tenderness that Hanzo could only barely recognize.

Silence fell between the two brothers until Hanzo finished his meal. He stacked his bowl with Genji’s and joined him in looking out over the Hanamura compound below. The snow had begun to accumulate, covering the grounds in a ghostly white that stood in stark contrast with the bright colors Hanzo knew lay beneath.

“How do we move on from here?” The question left Hanzo’s lips with supreme hesitation. He despised admitting any sort of weakness out loud, but the thought of leaving it unspoken felt even worse. Hanzo still wasn’t certain as to whether he had forgiven himself enough to ask the question in the first place.

Genji shrugged, then leaned back on his hands as his eyes darted across the landscape. It seemed easiest, somehow, if they avoided looking at each other during the conversation. “I do not know,” he admitted in kind.

A black shape moved smoothly across the white field of the Hanamura compound. It was one security member, guarding the grounds that were currently uncontrolled by any member of the Shimada clan.

Genji looked over at Hanzo at that point, his eyes twinkling as he asked a question in return. “How about we start...by raising a little bit of hell?” His hand drifted towards his back, punctuating his question with the distinct sound of his sword popping from its sheath.

With his belly warm and full of ramen, and his fingers itching from the prospect of wanting forgiveness, it took very little convincing for Hanzo to pull his bow from its holster and pop the arms into place. “Just like old times, little brother.” For a moment, he was able to give his last remaining family member a true, genuine smile. “Shall we?”


End file.
